


Eyes Wide Open

by timehopper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (Or maybe great decisions), Bad Decisions, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Sylvain catches Dimitri in a private moment, but instead of leaving, he decides to stay.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 112





	Eyes Wide Open

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be for Wank Week back in August, but I was out of town at the time and got overwhelmed with other stuff before I could finish it. So it sat unfinished in my WIP folder for months... until the ever-amazing Sparrow asked me to write Dimivain for Kinktober day 28: Masturbation! 
> 
> So here you go! Have this extremely self-indulgent fic about Sylvain getting off to Dimitri getting off.

He doesn’t mean to see it. He doesn’t mean to stay, either, but Sylvain is not and has never been a stranger to bad decisions. So, knowing he shouldn’t, he decides to stay right where he is, feet rooted to the spot as he stares, transfixed, through the tiny strip of space between Dimitri's bedroom door and its frame.

He bites his lip. Holds his breath. Tightens his grip on the doorframe to steady himself, because surely, _surely_ he’s not seeing what he thinks he is. He can’t be. There’s no way Dimitri would be sitting at his desk and _masturbating_ with the door cracked open, for anyone to see.

But he is. He is, and Sylvain can't stop looking at him. Hand between his legs, gauntlets thrown to the floor, Dimitri huffs and pants as he grips his dick in one hand, fingers wrapped around it tightly enough that Sylvain can only just make out the flushed, dripping head on the downstroke. 

He should leave. He knows he should. His mind screams at him to run, to get into his room, throw himself on the bed and crank one out himself where nobody can see him. It’s safer that way, right? But he can't bring himself to move, not when Dimitri's face is so red, when his lips are parted so prettily as he lets out a quiet, choked-back moan...

Without thinking, Sylvain reaches down between his own legs, eyes never leaving Dimitri. Goddess help him, he's already straining against his pants, hard enough that even a touch as light and absent-minded as this is enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

He leans against the wall, cheek pressed against the doorframe. So he's doing this, then. He's just going to watch Dimitri, his close friend, whom he's known since childhood, jerk off. He’s going to watch his prince – his future _king_ – get himself off in the presumed privacy of his own room.

And Sylvain is going to jerk himself off while he does it. 

Okay. This is fine. Just another day in the life Sylvain Jose Gautier. Everything he does is wrong and messed up in some way or another, right? So what’s one more thing? It's not like he's never thought about it before, anyway. About Dimitri. About what he might look like, how he might sound, how he might feel when he...

Sylvain stops himself there. There's no need to get caught up in a fantasy when the real thing is right there, right in front of him. And as much as Sylvain might like to barge in there to get a better view, or to instruct Dimitri on how to do this right or to watch him and praise him and _touch_ and _taste_ and _feel_ him, it's better he doesn't make himself known. This way, he can see the real Dimitri. He can see what the prince is actually like when he’s not wearing that stilted, overly-polite mask. Sylvain can finally, finally know—

"Ahh..." Dimitri moans louder this time. He rests his forehead against the desk and grits his teeth, hissing a sharp breath out through them. Sylvain swallows thickly, the sound and sight of Dimitri going straight to his cock. _Yeah_ , Sylvain thinks. _Yeah, this is good._

He palms himself through his pants, tongue flicking out to wet his lips when Dimitri starts pumping himself faster. Sylvain watches with rapture, his focus so wholly and completely on Dimitri he doesn't even blink.

He can’t. He doesn’t want to miss a single second of this.

But he can’t see quite _enough_ , so Sylvain shifts, pressing his face against the doorframe and leaning forward until he can get a better view of Dimitri’s full profile. And then, by sheer luck – or maybe the goddess’s divine blessing – Dimitri sits up, kicks his legs out straight and pushes his desk chair back. He's stretched out now, body sinfully taut as he throws his head back and lets his mouth fall open on a gasp.

And oh, fuck, that just makes the angle _better_. Sylvain can see more of Dimitri's cock now, and the goddess must be rewarding him for his prayers right about now, because Dimitri is _big._

Sylvain squeezes himself, starts rubbing his cock through his pants with the heel of his hand in earnest. It feels good; too good, maybe, for how wrong it is, because as much as Sylvain can rationalize that Dimitri will never see him, will never find out, he can't quite quiet that voice in the back of his head telling him how horrible he is for being so into this. 

He _can_ ignore it, though. He's gotten good at that, and he's always known there was something wrong with him. This is just more proof.

So he gives in and touches himself with abandon, undoing his pants and pulling his cock free so he can jerk himself off it properly. He thumbs at the head, smearing around the unusually generous amount of precum that’s gathered at his slit, and starts working himself quickly, going at his cock as if any moment now he’ll be caught. And all the while, he’s still watching Dimitri voraciously from the crack in the door.

Dimitri bites his lip. Sylvain imitates him, imagining he's sinking his teeth into Dimitri's neck. He swallows down a whine when Dimitri's hips lift off the chair, knowing that any sound at all will reveal him. And when Dimitri shoves fingers into his own mouth and _bites_ , Sylvain grips the door frame almost tight enough to splinter the wood.

But none of that – _nothing_ Dimitri does could have prepared Sylvain for what happens next. 

Everything goes quiet for a moment. The silence is almost deafening – would be, were it not broken by the wet noises of Dimitri's furiously working his cock and Sylvain’s own laboured breathing. But then Dimitri’s chair creaks and groans with movement.

Sylvain freezes. Dimitri shifts in his seat, head lolling over the back of the chair as he turns onto his side and moves his whole body to face the door. 

For a moment, Sylvain’s afraid he's been caught. But oh, does _that_ thought make his dick twitch and jump in his hand. The idea that Dimitri could look over and see him, make eye contact with him, watch him as he's being watched…

"Fuck—" Sylvain bites his tongue, just barely muffling his own whispered curse. He starts stroking himself again, impatient enough not to bother with any lead-up before going right back to his previous pace.

He chances a glance at Dimitri’s face, just to confirm he still hasn’t been caught. And he hasn’t, if the expression he’s wearing is any indication: Dimitri’s eyes are open but unseeing, pointed somewhere to the left of the door. They roll back in his head and then he closes them again, lifting a hand to his mouth and groaning around his knuckles. He jerks himself off even faster, brows knitted.

He must be close.

Sylvain’s mouth waters. He swallows thickly, eyes dropping back down to Dimitri’s cock. He watches every movement, every stroke, every motion as if hypnotized. At this angle, Sylvain has a perfect view of the head, red and glistening and dribbling feely with precum. There’s so much of it. Is that normal? Sylvain doesn’t even care. He just wants to know what it tastes like. So he imagines himself on his knees before Dimitri, mouth open and eager, ready to take whatever his prince will give him…

Sylvain chokes. He claps a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet, because now, more than ever, he can’t afford to get caught. He’s about to come – he’s about to watch _Dimitri_ come. He’ll be able to see everything. He’ll be able to watch as Dimitri milks shot after shot of thick, sticky come from his straining cock…

Sylvain’s hand moves faster. Fuck, he’s so close. He grips himself like a vice, trying to force himself over the edge. All it’ll take is just a little more, just another few seconds... 

Dimitri whimpers. Sylvain’s eyes move up to his face, desperate to see his expression. 

“Ah – ah—” Oh, he must be right there if he’s making sounds _that_ pretty. Sylvain grins wildly behind his hand. _Just a little more, come on, please—_

“S-Sylvain…!” 

Sylvain comes, all the air rushing out of his lungs so fast it’s as if he’s been sucker-punched. He doubles over, curling in on himself as his orgasm wrenches itself free. He doesn’t think he’s ever come so hard in his life: every twitch of his dick sends a new wave of pleasure rolling over him, drawing it out until he can hardly breathe for how good he feels. 

And still, it doesn’t end. Even when his cock is spent and he’s sagging against the wall, legs weak and pants a mess, he still feels delirious with pleasure. He almost doesn’t register where he is or what he had been doing until he hears the shuffling of clothing from inside Dimitri’s room.

By the time Sylvain has the presence of mind to look back in to make sure he still hasn’t been caught, Dimitri has already finished. He’s slumped in his chair, sitting in it properly now and looking up toward the ceiling. His hand, still sticky with come, hangs loosely at his side. His dick is still out, too, soft and limp and dripping.

Sylvain’s mouth waters at the thought of going in there and licking it clean, but he still has enough presence of mind to know that, out of all the bad ideas he’s had tonight, that one might just be the worst.

So instead, he just slinks off to his room, ashamed of himself and still aroused beyond all reason. He strips down, throws himself onto the bed, and lies back with an arm over his eyes. He takes hold of himself again, working the base of his cock until it’s back at full attention, and thinks about Dimitri calling his name as he comes. 

It’s going to be a long night.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and think you might like to see more, have a chat, or would like to get to know me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r).
> 
> And if you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1355219789560471554). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
